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Wednesday, March 19, 2014

I saw the beauty of
the Philippines. And beauty became familiarity. And familiarity became boredom.
And that boredom ignited a feeling—a quest to see something new.
So I wandered far to see what’s out there.

Finally the last step! But the last step happens to be the
most dreadful. So I keep fumbling with my travel documents and as I hand them to
the immigration officer my hands feel cold. She engages in a tense talk with me,
her gaze transiting from my face to my documents and again to my face. Then she
goes into a room with my papers. After five minutes she comes out and tells me
“Okay na!” (You’re clear!).

Those two words were
the overture to my first international trip in February 2014.

I have seen the loveliest beaches in the Philippines and set
foot on its highest mountains. But when the plane landed in Bangkok, I was
filled with the excitement and joy of having come to a new place—a sense of
anticipation reserved for the first-time traveler. This overwhelming ardor was
my only companion during my six days in Thailand. It got me through the 50-km trail racein Khao Yai. And it lingered on in Ayutthaya as I marveled at the
ancient temples that testify how rich Thailand’s history is. Finally when I
visited the Grand Palace and Wat Pho complexes in Bangkok, I knew what ‘grand’
means.

After seeing all the greatness of Siam, I felt ashamed for
my country. It cannot match the tourism industry of its neighbors.

And this lamentation intensified when I chanced upon an American blogger’s open letter to the
Filipinos. The blogger asks “What has
the Philippines contributed to the world?” It was as scornfully simple as
it was hurtfully honest. But as I pondered over it, I realized that the
Philippines has nothing to envy about its neighbors. If I remember well, I
never really enjoyed my visit to the Grand Palace. I was awed; I’m not going to
lie. But as soon as I laid eyes on the temples, the excitement vanished. It
was not something that I would want to go back to. And if I may add, I was
particularly annoyed, to say the least, at the chaos of the crowd cluttered
with tour guides speaking different languages. I just wished I could have the
place all to myself.

the crowd at the Grand Palace complex

In my travels around
the Philippines, on the other hand, I can often enjoy the country’s natural
wonders in peace. It may be hard to get to some of these places but once
you’ve gotten there you’ll know that your effort is all worth it! There are
more than 7000 islands in the Philippines to choose from. You will never run
out of a quiet cove or lake in this country.

alone with my climb buddy somewhere in Benguet

alone with my guide at a crater lake in Ormoc

But more than the natural beauty of the Philippines, it is
the friendship I make in these places that I keep in my heart. It is this
ingredient of travelling that makes me want to savor each moment again and
again. The Philippines is rich in people who will make your visit more than
just an escape from work or the city. With them, travelling becomes more of a
return to home.

And these people may
speak a different language but they always find a way to communicate their
friendship. I remember my Benguet-La Union cross-country. In the midst of
the forest, I came upon a solitary house where an old couple lived. I was
asking for directions when the old man, who spoke no Tagalog, told me ‘By and by, you see [sic] bamboo forest …” AndI was just like “Wow! That was World War II English!” It turns out the farmer
fought the war alongside the Americans. Y’see, anywhere in this country, people
will go beyond linguistic barriers in order to reach out and help the weary
traveler. And when the language of the tongue fails, we speak the language of
the heart—a language expressed through a smile that says “Everything’s gonna be
all right!” And this smile ushers in the Filipino hospitality.

The Ballagans of Kabayan, Benguet, who have become family to me

This is the answer to
the blogger’s question! It is the Pinoy Smile that we have contributed to
civilization. It is this smile that sets the Philippines apart from the rest of
the tourist destinations in the world. You see this smile in every corner of
the country—from the receptionist in your hotel to the street vendors around
it. You see this smile among the farmers that till the terraces of Banaue and
on the face of the boatman who will take you to the lagoons and secluded beaches of El Nido.

And this same smile gets us through any storm or tremor.

It
touches.

It inspires.

So maybe the reason why we don’t have those grand historic
landmarks is that our ancestors were not willing to contribute to the world a temple
like the Pyramids, which were built upon slavery. Neither did our ancestors
wish to stain history books with bloodshed from great conquests like
Alexander’s. Instead our ancestors chose to busy themselves perfecting the
Pinoy Smile and seeing to it that the Pinoy hospitality lives until today.

So if you want
something more than just sights, choose the Philippines. Because when you do,
you choose thePinoy Smile!It is not a history frozen in ruins. It is not a
sight whose beauty disappears as soon as you've seen it. It is a living history,
well-crafted by our ancestors for you to experience now, and to keep in your
heart for years to come.

And so I saw the
beauty of the Philippines. And beauty became familiarity. And familiarity
became boredom. And that boredom ignited a feeling—a quest to see something
new. So I wandered far to see what’s out there. But, alas, I saw not what’s out
there. Instead, I saw the gem that had always been inside—the incomparable
Pinoy Smile!

Sunday, March 9, 2014

“Are we there yet?” My tone came with a tinge of impatience.
“You tell me! You’re the one leading.” My dad said in jest. For a second it
sounded like a blend of sarcasm and condescension. Being one of the best
athletes in our city, I hated being patronized. I knew the only reason he put
me on the lead was for him to catch me in case I fell. I chose not to give any
response lest my voice betray my growing irritation. Somehow he sensed my
resentment, so he said “It’s just a walk’s distance!” Y’see, good timing is
probably not my dad’s best talent! My annoyance gave me this shot of
adrenaline that channeled all my strength to my arms because my legs had all
but hung purposelessly from my torso. Then I pushed myself up the trail with my
trekking poles piercing the ground. But by some freak of fate, I stepped on a
loose rock and my right calf got cramped. The pain was unbearable that I
screamed “Fu#k!” The word was a warm congratulation to my frustration that had consummated
itself into anger! I was so humiliated! I was in my prime and Dad, at fifty-five,
was walking uphill without the aid of trekking poles. Yet there I was, looking
like a lifeless object strewn carelessly on the ground. He casually sat down next
to me. Then, staring blankly into the mist he said “You’re not the only one! Thirty
years ago, at this same spot, I kept calling out ‘Hello! Anybody there?’ shivering in the cold…scared…’’ after a
short pause he turned to me and said “ashamed.”

the foggy trail up that nameless mountain in Atok, Benguet

“But I pushed on and saw a woman quietly staring at me in
front of that house. And she gave me directions to the tower I was looking for!”
Obscured by the thick afternoon fog, a house was indeed at the direction my dad
was pointing at. For a moment, the pain disappeared and I managed a sigh of
jubilation. Dad went on to stretch and massage my calf. “Feelin’ better?” I
gave a nod that pretended to be angry. But Dad knew I was in a good mood again.

We resumed our trek and upon reaching the house, we turned
right. About 500 meters farther was the peak with the tower. We camped outside
the walls of the tower. After dinner, Dad told me a story that he said changed
his life.

Thirty years ago, at the spot where we camped, Dad met a man
named Elmer Basongit. He was the security guard manning the tower then. In Apo Elmer's childhood, he had a simple dream—to ride a plane! His father had always told
him that for a child born to a simple farmer in Benguet, the dream to ride a
plane was a fantasy no more realizable than the legend of Kabunian. But Apo
Elmer was unfazed. He kept his dream alive in his heart and when he was in his
twenties, he was among the three individuals who were chosen by the DENR to
help in the reforestation and rehabilitation of Mt Halcon! And so he was flown from Manila to Mindoro. He had fulfilled his dream!

After his job in Mindoro, he came back to Benguet and raised
a family. When all his twelve children had settled down, he quit farming and
became a security guard. My dad never met Apo Elmer again.

a picture of my dad taken by Apo Elmer 30 years ago

The following morning, I woke up with an upset stomach. Dad
told me to ask permission from the guard at the tower to use the outhouse.
Sensing the urgency of the situation, the guard hurriedly opened the gate. When
I pushed the loose door of the run-down outhouse, I saw a row of planks on the ground
with a cover at the center. And when I lifted the moist cover, the stench was
more than I could take. The drum under the planks stored all the dirt that fell
through the nasty hole. I felt sick but I knew there was no turning back. It
was a five-minute ordeal but somehow, I did it! When I came out I saw my dad giving
me this grin that seemed to say “Thirty years ago, that same thing happened to
me.” I still had no appetite so we decided to take pictures. The views were
spectacular! The peaks around were like rocks jutting out of a vast sea of
clouds! It made me think that indeed there was more to the Philippines than
just beaches and corruption. And I almost did not notice—the field had been
covered with frost. ‘Is this for real?’ Dad smiled saying, “They call this andap, it may look cute to you but the
farmers in Benguet dread this. This lays waste to their crops when it melts!” Before
having breakfast, I lingered on a boulder contemplating the beauty and peace of that nameless mountain in Atok, Benguet. I wanted to stay one
more day but we had to catch our flight back to Cebu.

the sea of clouds that greeted us in the morning

Apo Elmer’s life story was so profound that it took Dad
about ten years before he was able to come up with words that could justify its
depth. Then one day, following the lesson that he learned from Apo Elmer’s
story, Dad did what his heart wanted—he quit his job and focused on writing. In
2014, he joined a writing contest and his story about Apo Elmer won an
award. That success opened a lot of doors to his writing career.

On our flight back to Cebu, I kept thinking about a very
important lesson that I learned from that trip. It was the same lesson that had
kept my dad optimistic and worry-free doing what his heart wanted. It was a conviction
to start following my heart and stop worrying about failing and suffering
afterwards because if I could survive that trek and if I could poop in that
outhouse, there’s nothing in life I can’t survive!

________________________________________________________________________________Blogger's note: In case it wasn't obvious enough, this is a story written by my future son twenty years from now.

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About Me

The Lagataw is free-spirited. He knows no limits in space and time. But he sets limits between him and the places he visits. He respects the culture, creed and serenity of the places that take him in. The Lagataw adheres to low-impact traveling and sets out on most of his journeys alone. The Lagataw has no destination so he never gets lost. The Lagataw advocates responsible traveling free of commerce and politics. The Lagataw believes that there are only two things you can do with your body: YOU CAN EITHER DESTROY IT YOURSELF OR HAVE IT DESTROYED BY SOMETHING OR SOMEONE ELSE!